Through My Eyes
by Stealiana
Summary: Tokio finds herself married to a man she hardly knows, Saitou Hajime. Can she accept her lot in life as the wife of a Mibu wolf? Tokio's POV. Companion fic: Through Your Eyes
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** The Tokio I envisioned (before I found out what she really was like) was the traditional Japanese woman from that time period (as far as I can understand them, since I myself am not Japanese - if anyone would like to enlighten me about a misconception I have, I would appreciate it). I came up with a plot I liked better than my original, but it will make being historically accurate near impossible, so **I'm going to extend Okita's life for a few years... okay.. 10 ^^;**. As this is a first person fic, there may be some things that don't sound quite right, but eventually make sense - remember, things are as the character sees it, not necessarily fact. ^^ That said, begin and enjoy!  
**Edits:**Only one as of right now, Saito's dialogue in the Prologue slightly edited to make it (hopefully) more in character of him, while still providing Tokio a chance to interpret in her own way.

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Through my eyes, there is black and there is white. The black does not seem so dark to me - instead it is calm, serene, like a bottomless pool of ink waiting for a brush to gently take its fill. But when he is here, everything becomes a blinding, scalding white of confusing turmoil, like froth on the tips of waves. Perhaps that is what he sees too - for he is always away. Did I not know that wolves prefer the stealth of night?

Not that I mean to complain; never have I experienced want for these long years I have been married. Money has never been at the source of a disagreement, and I have three strong boys through him - none of which has ever ceased to bring me joy during my days of solitude.

Though he comes back quite late some nights, he does not smell of drink nor other women. Although, in all fairness, I think some of his cleanliness may be attributed to me. Nonetheless, as I scrub my hands raw trying to cleanse his uniform of dried blood on such nights, I wonder at how lucky I am. 

Although it becomes harder to recollect the years of blackness when he was gone, I remember every detail of my struggle against him. His silence is not easy to understand, nor was I willing to try. Only a child, I was frightened to be away from my family, and uncertain of the duties I had to perform for this strange man I did not know. The marriage itself had been arranged by my father - how the two met I never did learn, but my curiosity waned over time. My husband did not like to answer questions, and shortly after our life began, I learned not to ask any, or the response would be an awkward silence. Under my guidance, the children soon learned this too - yet he seemed far more tolerant of them, which I envied.

Oddly enough, none of the children ever questioned his absences. He never took them fishing, never played with them, rarely even spoke when he was home. Perhaps they saw this as normal, and I dared not disrupt that perception. Although by then I was stronger than in the beginning, I do not know if I could have contained a brood full of discontentment. They grew used to his disappearances, and life went on with or without him.

Honestly, in the beginning, discontent ran like blood through my veins. When a girl dreams of the future, it is magnified and fulfilled by the presence of a warm, kind man with a smile to put all fears to rest. I was no different; joy filled my heart when my father said I was to marry a good man. He, I thought, would be just like the man in my imagination. Oh, what a blind child I was! Little did I know this was only the beginning of a continuous battle with an enigma I could not defend against.

  


The actual ceremony is blurry in my memory, simply because my expectations were so high I was a bundle of anxiety. I stole glances at his face continuously; the thin lines that made up his profile and the extraordinary grin he wore all night long were strangely enchanting. His body looked pointed in the flowing material, making him look like rough edges on a shard of glass, merely needing sanding and polishing. Yet with all his sharp angles and silent, grinning nods, he retained a certain grace about him, and that is what I learned to cling to.

Being alone with him proved to be more of a trial than I thought. The smile he had carried throughout the evening faded instantly when the screen door slid shut and though he was only a few years older than I, every ounce of me felt to be no more than a child. His eyes were gold, I realized, shining ferociously with an intensity I cannot describe. Nothing about him seemed the same as before as I felt the night pressing in about me. He did not look at my face, although I stared openly at his, drinking in every detail and memorizing every feature of this stranger. I could not help myself, although it was so very rude of me…

Only when I turned away at last to straighten the futon did he speak.

"Do you know what I am?" Such a simple question, and what did I have to answer? I deemed it best to wait for his. His voice, quiet and low, captivated me, although there was not a shred of emotion present.

"You have married a killer, Tokio. Or so they will say." My name sounded so very strange, coming from him, and with such serious words accompanying it. The first time he had spoken to me all night - he would not say another word.

My back remained turned to him, my head subconsciously bowed in obedience. When his hand touched my shoulder I trembled, my eyes closed, my hands tightly clasping my kimono. He tugged at my obi, as if coaxing me to cooperate with his slender fingers, but I dared not move. My heart was in my throat, my breaths coming quickly, as I felt a strange horror at being handled by this man. At last, he succeeded in dislodging the bow, and I felt the material sliding off; even then, I did not move. His hands touched my shoulders, the kimono loosely in place. I could hear his breath above the pulses in my ears, coming slowly and evenly. I had been kneeling, and he must have knelt as well, for suddenly I felt his forehead against the back of my neck…

I cried out in fear, frightened of this man I was now bound to serve. Instantly, he pulled away, and I could picture the scowl that would be on his face, that would be on any man's face in his position. Never have I experienced the shame and embarrassment that I did that night. In my humiliation, I wrapped my kimono even tighter about me, my hands shaking as I held it in place. The room was empty of sound, until I heard the scratching of a match being lit. I dared not face him to see what he was doing. But in my ragged gasps for air, I inhaled the strangest scent, which triggered a choked cough.

I held my fallen obi against my face, trying to block out the horrid smell. My eyes watered as my coughs increased and I turned halfway to see him looking at the cigarette in his hand, contemplating the glowing end that let a trail of smoke waft through the room. I half-crawled and half-stumbled to the window on the opposite side of the room, my hands clumsily flinging it open to let in the cool fresh air. Such a still night, broken only by my wretched coughs. When I had regained my composure and turned about, he was gone, like the shadows that disappear when the candle is lit. Feeling childish and useless, I slammed the window shut and threw myself down on the futon. At last, I was able to face my failure - failure to be a good wife, and failure to keep the tears from falling. I drew the sheets up about me, the crisp, fresh sheets now marred and dampened by my running makeup, providing a haven of barrenness that I burrowed into as sleep overtook me.   


  



	2. Discovery

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

I awoke to find everything as I had left it the night before. My obi lay wrinkled in a heap beside the futon, and there were no signs that he had come back - except that the door was open. Had he returned, or had the door been open the entire night? I could not remember, but I banished the thought from my mind, preoccupied with the prospect of an entire day ahead of me. An entire day to calm my fears.  
I wrapped my obi about my chest again, realizing I had not brought any of my clothing into my new room yet. All my things were still packed away where they had been left for me to sift through the next day. My kimonos, my obis, my sandals and wooden shoes… everything was neatly folded and packaged in several bundles. I did not have much to bring with me; my family was not extremely wealthy as of late, even with my father's position. All the better, for now I had less work to do.  
Busying myself with menial labor allowed my thoughts to drift. I began to draw his profile in my head, his long black hair, tied back with a few straggling bangs that resisted his efforts. His eyes… their gold shade sparkled in the candlelight, but they were so cold and calculating as he had stared at his cigarette. And his thin lips, pursed together in silent thought. Each aspect joined together to create the face of a man who was now my husband but still a stranger.  
I found I had finished putting my possessions in their place and was now merely staring at my hands in my lap. With a sudden desire to erase him from my thoughts, I stood to examine my new surroundings. The deadened silence of the house began to grate on my nerves. The bareness of every room merely accented the dire need the home had for a woman's touch. In my exploration, I came across the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to find a snowy white envelope sitting on a table against the wall. My name was on it in a firm but elegant kanji, which I assumed was written by him, as I did not recognize the hand. Inside, I found a rather significant amount of money - I could only deduce this was meant for my own use.  
As I peered into the envelope, I felt immediate guilt. Really, was he such a bad man? For all his silence and those strange words he said, he had not forced himself upon me or even hit me as I have heard so many other women complain of their husbands. This had even been left for me to spend as I deemed necessary…  
I put the money back down, unsure of what to do with it. Of course, it was sorely needed to improve many lacking features of this empty dwelling. However, I found myself wishing instead that I knew what his favorite food was, so that I might buy and prepare it in hopes of making amends. Good food won the hearts of many, and putting forth such an effort would show that I wished to serve him as best I could.  
The day drew on slowly, and I found myself only able to think of my embarrassment from the previous night. Tonight will be different, I told myself. I will make sure of it.  
I nearly burnt the gyoza I was preparing, but I awoke from my broodings in time to catch myself. I set out two cushions and the little table, proceeding to kneel and wait with my food to eat with him. The sky was growing dark; surely he would come home for dinner. His employers must know he was a newlywed… I went to reheat the food, absently stirring it about. The hours ticked by, I suppose, for there was no clock in the room and I had no watch. The silence of the night became even more oppressive than the one that had accompanied me during the sunlit daytime. After starting the fire for the last of innumerable times, I abandoned the thought, as my mind had invented new terrors to keep me occupied. As I set the cold bowls down, I wondered: Was he even coming home tonight at all? Had he left me? Was the money the last I would ever hear from him? The cold eyes I had seen the night before had seemed capable of anything, even the murder his lips had professed. But my father had said he was a good man - so he wouldn't… would he? My troubled mind unknowingly cast me into a fitful slumber. All I could see was a pair of golden eyes constantly watching me. I shouted, I begged, I implored - I even cursed, which as a lady I wasn't supposed to do - but the eyes would not look away. Smoke floated before my vision and I even felt myself choking in my sleep, the coughing at last waking me.  
The gyoza was frigid by now, the sun rather high in the sky, indicating it was at least midmorning if not later. No sign of him. My dread lay in the very bottom of my stomach, refusing to leave as I cleaned up. I did not even have anyone to contact or anywhere to go if I wanted to find him… so much I did not know about this man! And how would he be thinking of me? Timid, childish, innocent? I almost felt offended at the thought, convincing myself that tonight I would wait up for him again, and prove I was not the simpering child he must think me to be.  
I made my way to the bedroom looking for a fresh yukata to wear. By accident, I opened the wrong drawer and nearly cried out with surprise.  
Several katanas lay stacked against the bottom, which in itself was not shocking. But the greenish blue fabric folded neatly, with only a few visible white triangles on the sleeve caused me to step back and gape stupidly.  
I realized I was married to a member of the Shinsengumi.  


  



	3. Ahou

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Rumors always flit about, yet several of the more unsavory ones involved this group. Even if they acted as a police force in Kyoto, there had been stories of rapes, murders, and other atrocities all done in the name of keeping the peace in the past. The words he had spoken to me that night filtered through my ears again…

"You have married a killer, Tokio." Could he have been one of them…?

I peered back into the drawer; half expecting to find the katanas caked in dried blood or some other such thing. Instead, a tiny band of cloth lay wrapped about them, keeping them all tied in a bundle. The kanji painted on the material were difficult to read, but by twisting my head, I could clearly read the three symbols.

Aku. Soku. Zan.

A shiver ran down my spine and I hurriedly shut the drawer, willing myself to forget all I had seen. Even through my fear, I felt my anger boiling as I thought of my father. How much of this did he know? To think, my own father matched me with a murderer and claimed him to be a good man! Was that where my husband had been last night? Slaughtering some innocent?

My breathing was surprisingly loud in my anger; I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, waiting for the furious pounding in my head to subside. I had always held a strong dislike for the Shinsengumi, after they had threatened my good friend, Fuyuko, some time ago, leering at her from half-lidded eyes… they all smelled of sake! Luckily, she had been able to run inside a nearby restaurant and remain hidden until they lost interest. One of the boys who worked there was kind enough to walk her home - but we should have known Kyoto was no longer safe after dark nowadays!

Once I had calmed myself, I began to wonder at the puzzle. My husband, one of the Shinsengumi, had said nothing to me, good or bad. He had left me money to do with as I pleased, and did not return home last night. Not only that, he warned me, in his own way, of what I was undertaking. What was I to make of this?

I did not have as much time to ponder this mystery as I had thought, for midway through the afternoon, the door of the main entrance slammed open. Hurrying to the front with curiosity, I heard the unmistakable thud as metal hit the floor, and I slid open the door cautiously.

The greeting I had ready died on my lips. There he stood, defiant and angry, his Shinsengumi uniform tinted the dark maroon of dried blood. His katana lay on the floor, immaculately clean. Before my very eyes, he methodically peeled off his uniform, revealing another layer of clothing; this untouched.

I could not keep my eyes from following as he nonchalantly tossed the soiled uniform into a heap. Never once did he meet my confused gaze. Instead, he pulled out his cigarettes in the silence, staring at them thoughtfully.

"W-would you like me to draw a bath?" I said at last, realizing that he was waiting. He was still my husband, and despite the obvious evidence of his activities, he had never acted dishonorably towards me. How could I judge, in such a time of political unrest?

"Mm." He nodded, as if dismissing me without another thought. Instead of retreating, I kept myself where I stood.

"Do those…" I merely gestured, hoping to get him to at least face me. My ploy did not work. "…need washing?"

He turned his back, slowly drawing out a cigarette.

"Ahou." He muttered. I felt my face flame with embarrassment. "I don't like the smell of blood." I looked at the ground, my eyes only quickly darting to the pile of clothes… my back crawled at the thought of touching something so vile! I heard the grating strike of the match and the quiet puffs before the long drawn out sigh as he released his breath. "Just as you don't like the smell of my cigarettes." I peered upward to realize he was now standing outside, letting the wind carry the scent away from me. Was he being considerate? After calling me an idiot, he dared to stand outside smoking and taunting me? My frustration towards him mounted, but I did not dare say anything, if this was indeed his interpretation of showing me good will. Even so, I could not bring myself to near the pile of crusted fabric, and I cringed to think I would have to scrub the floor a thousand times over to rid myself of the feeling of a corpse in my entryway.

His movement to flick the ash from the end of his cigarette at last spurred me into motion. Had I not promised myself earlier that I would not fail the second time around? Clearly he had been out at night on a mission of some sort, and that was why he had not returned. Who was I to question him? And if I did know whom the blood belonged to, would that make it any easier?

After I drew his bath and cooked him dinner - which he ate silently - I rolled up my sleeves to begin the distasteful task of cleaning that horrid uniform. The white, I thought, was going to be the most difficult part. The cold water numbed my fingers, which helped tremendously in allowing me to forget my current duty. I watched the sky grow dark as dusk deepened its hues, and I felt myself glad that the day was nearly over, an exhaustion setting upon me from my lack of sleep the night before. I willed myself to remain attentive though, as I carried the damp clothes in to hang them, satisfied with the work I had done. The soapy water, however, wrinkled my hands, and I sought desperately to hide them in some way before I went to call him. I found him standing in the front of the house in the darkness, nothing indicating his presence but the glowing red at the end of his cigarette.

"Go to sleep, Tokio." His voice was quiet, yet forceful, and I found myself merely whispering a hurried goodnight before retreating to our room. I expected he would follow soon after, but he did not, as far as I know. Sleep came to claim me so quickly that if he had, he may have found he did not care to wake me.

  


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**A/N**: I forgot to mention this at the beginning: I've only seen the anime, movie, and first OVA. If anything I write goes against the manga, please let me know and I will try to correct it if I can!

**Responses to Signed Reviews:**  
(I saw someone else do this and thought it was a great idea.. ^^;;)

**Mibu No Ookami**: I edited what he says, but I had to keep the statement about his being a killer as it is going to resurface several times in the fic. Thank you though, because now I'm being more conscious about that extremely controversial line and how I reference it in the future.  
**Melfina-Pan**: Thank you! And yes, I do plan to continue!  
**Mary-Ann**: I'm glad you like the characterization! I was a little sketchy about it at first, but it seems to be coming along okay. ^_^  
**Diana**: I will try to update regularly, it's pretty much whatever I write that day and then I post it, but I have a few chapters done so I can update even if I don't have a chance to write that day.  
**amamiya**: I rule? *laughs* Thank you! I'm honored you think my story is worthy to be a favorite!  
**G**: ^^;; I'm glad you don't think Saito is too OOC, got some warnings about that. I'm finding he's really tough to write, so any input is appreciated if I stray from his path of Aku Soku Zan. And I'm glad you like my Tokio!  
**kamorgana**: Whoa there! LoL you're giving away my whole story! Hahaha, but you have very valid questions and I'm hoping to address them, both in this chapter and in future ones. Be sure to let me know if I don't, I'm always anxious to improve my fic!  
**Rachel Wes**: To be honest, I'm having more trouble with Saito's characterization than Tokio - and to think, I thought it would be the other way around! But thank you for the compliments, I hope I can stay faithful to the characters as I continue.  
**Valese & denise**: I'm not entirely sure what happened, but thanks, I didn't realize I replaced it. Hit the wrong button I suppose... ^^;;   


  



	4. Acceptance

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

The morning sky was a deep gray when I awoke, due to the early hour and the clouds that hung low. I saw another futon rolled up beside me. So he had come in, and had let me sleep, defenseless and open. How was it that I had been able to drift off after washing the red off the white, while he still roamed about? No, I told myself, I have married a good man! My father would not mislead me…

Hoping it had been conjured in my dreams and was nothing more, I made my way around the house searching for him. The rain began almost immediately after I arose, one of those warm downpours that make the earth smell fresh and clean. Despite the weather, I found him outside, sitting against the wall underneath the overhang. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and he was shuffling through papers, of what I was not sure.

"Good morning…" I said, barely audible above the rain. Did he ever sleep? He seemed to show no signs of fatigue, as he sat fully dressed, awake for quite some time.

"Good morning, Tokio." He replied, his deep voice the only thing directed at me, as his eyes and mind remained firmly attached to whatever it was he was reading. I felt extremely awkward, standing in the doorway, as I struggled for something to say. I wanted to ask about the night before, where he had been, why the blood… but as I vainly tried to think, he sighed.

"Damn it." He crumpled up the paper with his thin fingers. "The bastards will never learn." Tossing it to the side, he picked the cigarette out of his mouth and knocked the ash off in a graceful tap.

"Are you going out today?" I found myself asking, thinking that the people he was referring to had something to do with his work. He slowly put his cigarette back between his lips.

"No." My heart sank. How would I survive a day with his silence? Knowing he was there, soundless and watchful, made me feel so self-conscious, like I could not make one mistake without his noticing. The patter of the raindrops sounded to me as if the sky mourned my fate.

"I'll go make you some breakfast." I said at last, rather hurriedly. "You must be hungry…" Without waiting for a reply, and not really expecting one, I made my way to the kitchen to escape my confusion. My attempts to focus solely on building a fire and measuring the ingredients were in vain, my mind simply refused to stay on the task.

The blood on my husband's uniform plagued me, as I tried to justify what my father had told me. My father was an important official, would he not know? Good men did not leer at young girls and rape them, good men did not come home to their new wives bathed in blood!

"Do you know what I am? …You have married a killer, Tokio. Or so they will say." I blinked, as a sudden revelation dawned upon me. He had not told me what he thought he was, only what other people would believe. He had warned me; he had challenged me. But… if he was not a killer, then what was he?

Aku. Soku. Zan. Was that the Shinsengumi motto, then? Kill Evil Instantly. But who were they to determine what was good and what was evil? When members of their own group attacked innocent people, how could they judge others? Granted, these were unsettled times, even the stupid among us knew. The purpose behind the Shinsengumi seemed reasonable enough on the surface, but how many of the rumors were true? How many Fuyuko's had not been able to escape from them? Whenever my mother mentioned one of these rumors coming to light, my father had always shook his head, saying: 'These are difficult times.' I always knew he championed the Shinsengumi, but… even so I felt betrayed, as if he had left me to be devoured by a pack of wild animals.

All men to some degree desire power. Ironically, it is the women who bear the brunt of man's lust for power. For if nowhere else, the man asserts himself over his home and his wife. Ishinshishi, Shinsengumi, noble and peasant alike. The common thread that ties all humanity together is the greed for this power over one another. In such volatile times, the possibility of attaining such power seemed to be merely an arms length away, carrying so many to the brink of an insanity they never would have reached otherwise. I could see it clearly, as if I was looking at the world in a mirror, and all the people had turned to monsters with their lust. What I did not know was whether or not he saw it, and whether or not he was one of them. 

Without a word, I carried my husband his food and bowed low. He reciprocated the silence, and there were no sounds but that of his methodically devouring the meal. I stood watching him, finding that the more I looked at him, the less hatred I felt. I recalled yet again everything he had and had not done, thinking less and less of the incident with Fuyuko. He could easily have taken me by force - some husbands would argue it was his right. But he had not. Nor had he tried the previous night, I realized. How could I accuse such a man of committing the crimes founded only in gossip?

I felt better by the time he had finished eating. Simply because my husband was a member of the Shinsengumi did not mean he was a horrible man, although the blood on the uniform still perturbed me. But was that not his job? Aku. Soku. Zan. Was that not what he was trying to explain to me that very first night? As a dutiful wife, I decided I must trust him unless I found reason to do otherwise. I resigned myself to the thought of washing his bloody uniforms for many nights to come.

I was glad the morning was so uneventful. He stayed outside, smoking his horrible cigarettes, no doubt, and reading the stack of papers he had with him. I meant to take one to look at, my curiosity almost unbearable. But he was watching me, and I could not bring myself to ask. Instead, I busied myself with scrubbing the floors of our home diligently, convinced they had not been touched in quite some time. I almost began to feel like a normal housewife taking care of my daily duties.

Towards the evening hours, without saying a word, he made his way past me to the front of the house and departed. I moved quietly to a window and watched him slowly walk through the rain, his feet carrying him steadily towards an unnamed destination. Even I knew what awaited him - what would continue to await him for those long, violent months to come. After he disappeared about the corner, I remained standing there, feeling rather pitiful and neglected, wishing he had spoken. The rain continued in its unfaltering path towards the earth, softly hitting the stone pathway and pooling in rivulets. I turned away and tried not to worry.

  


  



	5. Patience

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

He returned at a reasonable hour, soaked to the skin. The incessant rain did not hide the sound of the opening door, and I went to greet him.

"Welcome back." I said, as I offered to take his wet coat from him. A surge of joy met my heart when I realized there was no red to be seen - no washing needed to be done! He, on the other hand, seemed to be extremely interested in a brand new pack of cigarettes he was holding. How odd, I thought, that it has been four days and he has not yet made eye contact with me. Almost as if he was deliberately trying to avoid meeting my gaze…

"Would you like something to eat? Really, you have not had much at all today…" I said casually, anticipating his silence. All our conversations focused around food, I noted sadly, and it was usually I who did most of the talking. Pitiful, that I really had nothing else to say to him.

I had turned to bring his wet clothes to another room, planning to lay them out to dry. But after I had begun to leave, his hand landed softly my shoulder.

"There is something else I want, Tokio." He moved silently behind me and I instinctively stiffened. He must have noticed this, for he sighed, sounding bored, before he gave me a small shove forward. "But food will suffice."

As soon as he let me go, I started to turn around, but realized I was too late. Already he had slipped out a cigarette, and was walking outside to smoke. With my own small sigh, I went to do as he wished.

Throughout our dinner, I chanced nervous glances upward at him, but not once did I catch him looking at me. I could not tell what he was thinking without looking at his face - although, in truth, his expression would not have divulged much information anyway. Thinking he would want to smoke after eating, I made a move to clear the table and leave him to his solitude that he loved so dearly. But his hand caught my wrist as I had bent to take away his empty bowls.

"Where are you running to?"

"I'm not running…" I kept my eyes on his hand, clasped about my small forearm. His palm and fingers were warm on my skin, and I felt my face burn when I realized he must be watching me with those golden eyes. A low laugh broke my concentration.

"You turn pink so easily, Tokio." I cringed with embarrassment, no doubt making my face even brighter than it already was. He rose to his feet and I straightened as well, my mind finally grasping what it was he was after. This time, I will not fail, I thought, feeling hope rise within my heart. Maybe then he would show a little more tenderness towards me, like the husband in my imagination. Like his teasing just seconds before…

Now was my chance; I could change the tension that existed between us, and maybe learn to love this man.

No, he was not just a man. I was his wife.

His hands gently coaxed me to face him, but I could not bring myself to look at him. I dared not know if his eyes showed compassion or a greed for power - I desperately wanted to see the former! But my own fear kept my eyes trained on his chest, knowing his were watching me. His forefinger and thumb cupped my chin, and I closed my eyes, feeling a tiny prick of anxiety, letting his lips graze over mine. His breath was on my face, gentle and warm, as I felt him lean forward again. I opened my own lips in silent compliance, the perfect image of obedience. But my façade shattered when I felt myself choke.

He tasted of his revolting cigarettes.

In hindsight, it was rather stupid of me not to expect it, but the idea simply had not occurred to me and I could not control my reflex. I pulled away, clamping my hand over my mouth in an attempt to quell my insides. Tears rose as I realized that surely I could not have found a deeper way to offend him, and that despite my best efforts, I had failed again.

He released me instantly, and I watched his hands tremble as he searched for his brand new pack. Was it from anger? Immediately, I knelt, bowing my head in shame.

"I'm sorry…" I began. "Please…"

"I am a patient man, Tokio." He walked past without looking at me. "I will get what I want eventually." His words held no malice, which heartened me greatly.

"Next time, I won't…" I tried to assure him, but he waved it away as he interrupted. "Do not disturb me tonight. And do not wait up." I stood, wiping the tears from my eyes before they could fall.

"Good night." I ventured to say, putting as much strength as I could into my words.

"Go." He commanded, as if one more apology would snap his patience. So I went.

  


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**A/N:** Okay, this is a warning about the upcoming chapters. Another character is going to enter the picture, and all historical accuracy in that regard is going to be thrown out the window. Simply because I came up with a better way to make things more dramatic and throw a little action in here... however, I'm going to be remodeling history. I'm going to ignore any reviews telling me how wrong I am about it, because I ALREADY KNOW! ^_^

**Responses to Reviews:**

**Deathblade**: I'm adding as quickly as I can, lol! I'm still coming up with plot as I go along, so it does take some time... but never fear, I'll keep going.  
**Calencoireiel**: Ahh I'm glad to see someone else didn't see her as the undercover agent she is in the manga! But don't worry about Tokio, she's a tough lil cookie, despite her confusion. And yea, things seem to be worked out - at least on her side of things. But I'm gonna be really nasty and throw a wrench into the works! >)  
**Mibu No Ookami** (Signed Review): Eh.. too much to respond to here. I'll send you an e-mail!  
**Midnight Scribbler**: When you watch the movie, watch it in Japanese with English subtitles. The Japanese Saito is SOO way cooler. ^^; In my humble opinion.  
**kamorgana**: Glad I was able to answer some of those questions - I owe you one, as you helped steer me in the right direction in explaining some of the stuff I left hanging. I'm gonna make a complete break with history when I bring in another character (one that we all know and love), but I'm trying to keep it *realistic* for the time period.  
**Wolf of Mibu**: Hey now, Saito has to become nice at some point, right? LoL. This is after all, supposed to end up as a romance fic! *points to the category* I'm glad you're with me on the fear of the Shinsengumi issue. A few members did give the whole group a bad rep... but we know enough to fully appreciate them now!  
**Keito-chan**: If you were looking for the 007 Tokio, she won't be found here! ^^; Sorry you think her character is boring, but I'm trying to make her as normal as possible, unlike some of the other fics who make her the undercover agent - which she IS in the manga. I'm glad you still enjoyed my story despite her character... she's going to get a little more feisty as time goes on, fear not.  
**Rachel Wes**: I'm trying to pick the story up, it's just that there's a lot of internal explanation that needed to take place before the action starts. I find once the so-called "action" (drama is more appropriate, I guess) takes place, characters don't have as great an opportunity to explain themselves. But believe me... things are gonna start happenin around here...   


  



	6. Social

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

I always thought it to be a pity that I did not try to escape that house more often in those early days. In my idealism, I carried the conception that the best way to establish a new order was to obliterate the previous. I took my cue from the revolution, pulling myself from the comfortably cool waters of family stability and throwing myself into a boiling pot of insecurity. While this method seems to be all that works for governments, perhaps it would have been better for me if I eased myself into the role of wife and homemaker. If I had but friends to visit in this area, then perhaps it would have been a less chaotic transition.

It was because I knew no one within short traveling distance that I was so surprised to hear a knock at the door the next afternoon. Clearly, he had not been expecting company - he had left earlier that morning without a word about the night before. When I reached the door, I was even more shocked to see that it was a young man standing patiently on the steps. He blinked when he saw me peer cautiously about the screen.

"Is Saito-san here?" The boy smiled cheerfully.

"No, I'm sorry." I replied apologetically. "He's out for the day." I did not care to tell the boy that it could be for more than a day, or that one unfortunate night, it might be forever.

"Do you mind if I wait for him?" The indefatigable smile he brandished worked so well in disarming me!

"Not at all! Please come in… ah…" I realized it was probably not the smartest thing to do, letting in strangers, now that I was the wife of Shinsengumi. But, I reasoned, I would have been no safer at my father's house - except here, I was alone. Nevertheless, I allowed the boy to enter, rebelling against my own sense. So far it hadn't steered me very well anyway!

"I'm so sorry! How terribly rude of me!" The boy was apologizing, interrupting my dark thoughts. "My name is Okita Souji." He smiled again. "You must be his wife… Tokio?" I nodded, rather surprised he knew my name when I had no idea who he was, although the name sounded familiar. Perhaps he had been the source of gossip at some point, though I could not imagine why. He had such an innocent smile…

"Ah well, that makes sense!" The boy rattled on, paying no heed to my brooding. "Now I know why he has been so gloomy and refused to drink with me last night - he was waiting to go home to you the whole time!" I must have had a strange look on my face, for suddenly the boy broke into a laugh. "Ah, but what am I saying? I'm sorry, I really am being impolite, aren't I! Saito-san is always telling me I should watch what I say. 'Think before you speak, Okita-kun!' But… it's all too short to waste on thinking!"

"How do you know my husband?" I asked quietly as I led the way inside.

"I used to work with him." My heart stopped and my breath caught in my throat. Was this what Japan was turning its young men into? Ruthless killers, thirsting for blood? And I had been oblivious to the waves of change all these years! I could not really blame myself though; my father may have been an Aizu official, but I knew next to nothing about the political events. He would never say much, except to perhaps my mother, and I never really cared to know, in all my stupidity, thinking it would never affect me. If only I had kept my ears open during the last few months, I would not be at such a disadvantage now, wandering lost in a forest of strange creatures.

Not that I had been completely deaf to the increasing cries for revolution. The streets always carried interesting news, but the things one heard were never really the truth behind the matter. Every gossip had her version of the truth, and after awhile the conflicting stories would utterly confuse me, so I gave up on them. The only time I received unadulterated facts were the infrequent occasions I would overhear my father's conversations with other officials who came to visit. That was where I had heard the boy's name!

"…I am surprised they have such a young man - Okita, did you say? - as a unit leader. No experience! But, you know, the greener the wood that catches aflame, the longer it smolders. And anyway, he really is damn good at what he does!"

This young man with the smile plastered across his face as if he had not a care in the world… he was a Shinsengumi leader! My awe over his status did not make me overlook the strange way Okita had phrased his answer, and I pounced upon it like a ravenous beast.

"Used to work with him?" I questioned, hoping he would not think me too inquisitive. Any shreds of information I could retrieve on my husband could only help to fill in the inexplicable gaps of his silence.

Okita shrugged, his cheerful tone slowly diminishing with every word. "We do not run into one another as often. Circumstances have changed."

"Oh?" I said offering him a seat in the front room. "He never did say what division he worked under - was he moved?" The boy burst out laughing and I fought to keep myself from getting angry. Was it my fault that my husband refused to say anything to me? My lips tugged against my forced smile, trying to break into a scowl and my brows pushed downward. I merely covered my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to gain my composure, while appearing to stifle an embarrassed laugh. Painfully obvious were hints of something dark hidden in the laughter; I knew I was treading upon unsteady ground. What was this boy hiding behind those sparkling eyes?

"He's the commander of the third unit! One of our best!" His excessive laughter caused him to suddenly cough, quite violently, his face growing deathly pale. But his smile persisted, wavering only slightly as he swallowed to subdue the spasms. I stood, offering him a drink. He shook his head, but I scoffed and went to retrieve one anyway. When I returned, he seemed to be perfectly normal again. The color had returned to his face, and he was full of energy and gaiety. Without any reference to his coughing spell, I placed the drink down in front of me and resumed our conversation.

"You will have to forgive me for my ignorance," I smiled kindly at him. "My husband is so busy he does not have a chance to tell me everything and I find I do not know as much as perhaps I should."

"I understand." Okita's voice had a sympathetic thread deep within. "Saito-san doesn't share much." With a much softer laugh, the boy's eyes twinkled. "You would not believe how long it took to pry a confession out of him!"

"Confession?" It was hopeless to hide my curiosity; the boy's playful attitude was contagious.

"Yes!" Okita grinned. "Ever since we heard he was getting married rumors have been drifting back and forth, but when we found out he was marrying you - well! That caused quite a commotion. No one really understood how it came about and he would merely answer that it was arranged. But, we were drinking one night, not too long ago, and I commented that he had done extremely well for an arranged marriage, particularly since most daughters of such officials already have a match. But he looked at me, with a rather self-congratulatory grin on his face, and you know what he said? 'You have a great deal to learn, Okita. There are many ways to make people do what you wish. The truth is they can all be wound and set like a watch, to whatever time you want. And I happen to know exactly what it is I want.' I don't think I will ever find out how he did it, but I was very surprised! He all but said that he had an interest in you, and for him to confess such a thing-"

The boy kept talking, his face rather flushed. I was rather shocked to hear Okita telling me such things - he seemed to have no sense of my embarrassment about his repeating a conversation in which I was the subject. Secretly, I could not deny that I was glad to hear his words; they provided me with the comfort of knowing that I was - well, I could not say I was loved - wanted, at least. A flicker of warmth was embedded in my heart during Okita's story, and I felt a renewed courage that perhaps my efforts would not be in vain. My thoughts were bent on learning to love my husband, and thankfully I seemed to grow closer to that goal with every step. I felt myself smile and my heartbeat quicken; my hope revived - I was not locked in the loveless marriage I had begun to envision.

Yet suspicion waited patiently in the back of my mind, lingering quietly until I had added another piece to the gaps in my husband, the enigma. Why was this boy telling me this story? I found it difficult to believe that he would be a gossip - members of the Shinsengumi would be killed for having loose tongues. Secrecy was essential in fighting the rebels, and as a captain, would he not be more informed than most? His willingness to share rather private information with someone he hardly knew puzzled me, and I found it rather disturbing. Something was not right, I sensed, and his incessant chatter and feverishly glinting eyes roamed my smiling face as if they were searching for something. I knew I had touched upon an inconsistency in his behavior, much as I had picked up before during our conversation. Circumstances had changed, and now he was talking as if silence would strangle him…

"Don't you think?" He smiled, awaiting my reaction. I laughed politely and smiled, hoping it was not too transparent. He was a very nice young man, but I found myself wary and on the defensive.

"Okita, you embarrass me by speaking of such things! But you have left me much to think about…" He looked about to laugh before he thought better of it, instead picking up the drink I had left and taking a sip.

"Can I get you anything else?" I asked, taking the opportunity to attempt an escape.

"No, I'm fine!" He waved the offer away. "You don't have to worry about me. I've taken you away from your work - I didn't mean to interrupt you!"

"That's very kind of you." I stood and bowed. "You may wait here as long as you wish."

"Ah, thank you!" Okita nodded his head in gratitude. I bowed again and left for the kitchen.

No, Okita, I thought. Thank you. You have given me much to think about…

  


  



	7. Defiance

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

On the exterior, I appeared to be diligently arranging the colorful wildflowers to liven up the room, my hands working with a gentle firmness that did not cause a single petal to wilt or crease. The interior workings of my mind, however, were like methodical gears as I sifted through some odds and ends that had piqued my interest.

I had not allowed myself to dwell upon it until Okita had left, as I feel extremely self-conscious whenever the person I am analyzing is still present. Almost as if I am worried I will blurt out what I am thinking. Of course, that is a foolish notion, but I cannot help but believe it might happen - it is the closest to a superstition I ever came.

The day had worn on steadily, and soon after dark the boy departed; my suspicion that my husband would not return came to pass. Okita did not wish to leave a message with me, insisting it had been no more than a social visit and I pretended to believe him. With a smile and a wave, his feet carried him to a new destination.

Only then did I dare to contemplate the curious happenings of the afternoon. If Okita was a member of the Shinsengumi, why had he stopped for a social call? Particularly on a day when he should have known my husband was working within the organization. I knew, simply because I counted his uniforms and found one missing that morning. If my husband did not care to share information with me, I would find another way to catch hold of it. Just as I would discover what Okita was up to…

I do not think he understood the effect his words had upon me. Obviously, I could not keep myself from believing what he had said about my husband, and this was not purely out of fancy either. Drunk men will say more than they mean to, yet the words still remain distinctly theirs; the ones the boy repeated carried the ambiguous aura that I had come to associate with my husband. The sense of authenticity merely amplified the warmth that had spread throughout my chest, and I began to realize something was hidden beneath the smoky haze he let engulf him. Perhaps I might even uncover a gem beneath that rough exterior.

What preoccupied me the most were not thoughts of him, however, but rather curious slips Okita had made. Most notably, his references to previously working alongside my husband. His later comments indicated that it had been his circumstances that shifted; somehow Okita could not contact the Third unit commander. This was were my logic and lack of information began to fail me. Painfully obvious was the fact that Okita's rank had dropped - but why? Immoral behavior meriting a demotion would never be tolerated by a group believing in "Aku Soku Zan". The boy's talent could not be in question either - my father's praise of him still resounded in my ears. What could have happened?

No one was about to provide me with an answer, so I moved onto the reason behind telling the story, tired of thinking in circles. I recalled the near rabid look he had in his eyes; he would not stop talking. When he did pause, he always moved his hand, twitched a finger - always in constant motion. The words cascaded from his lips, as though he would burst if they were kept inside. All were hollow, though. Every syllable that came off his tongue was trivial. Meaningless. Was that it?

My mind was about to wrap about the intangible nagging sensation I had been feeling, I was about to grasp that indefinable quality of the boy that had snared my attention when I heard a rice paper door slam open.

He had returned.

"Tokio!" Not a summons, not even a shout - more like a roar. My feet carried me to the inside corridor obediently.

"What is it?" I called back, finding my worry increasing. He did not sound like himself, his voice was not the smooth measured calm I became accustomed to.

"Where the hell is my katana?!" He thundered as I opened the inner door. The scent that crashed against my nostrils explained everything - sake. I noted his katana happened to be fastened to his side like it always was, but I knew enough not to divulge the information to him.

"Really, you should rest," I began, trying not to anger him more than he was currently. "I'm sure you've been quite busy today…"

"I smell blood." His eyes narrowed. "Where the hell is the son of a bitch?"

"Honestly, I haven't any idea what you're talking about!" I was indeed quite bewildered, and wondering how he could be so drunk and still standing on his feet. The foul odor that accompanied him only proved that he had spent more than enough money wetting his tongue on sake.

"Don't patronize me!" It all happened so fast…

"I wasn't…" What in the world was he talking about?

"I want to know where the hell he is! I smell his blood!"

"Who?! MM!" He had closed in, his hand clamping across my mouth, the stench of alcohol overpowering me. His eyes glittered like that of a madman, his teeth shone in a delirious snarl as he leaned toward me, burying his face in my neck.

"No, no, you don't smell of death… you smell of rain. Summer rain…" I felt myself tremble. Where was my husband? This strange man was nothing like him - no, it was the sake speaking, that's all it was! He was not in control of himself, he was not aware of what he was doing…

"I want it! Give it to me!" I felt a hand on my yukata, pulling at it with a tremendous force until I heard the cloth begin to tear. Then it became my turn to lose control.

The crack resounded when my palm made contact with his gaunt cheek. Even now I find it difficult to believe that I had managed to hit him. Drunk as he was, he still had faster reflexes than me. Perhaps it simply never occurred to him that I, weak though I was, would ever strike back. I did not know I was capable of such a thing.

He let go, his hand moving to his face, before he suddenly jerked and spat on the floor. Over my shaky breathing, I heard him mutter,

"Damn it. My tongue." And without looking at me, he walked back out to the overhang and sat, staring into the darkness. I had my own gaze drawn to the splattered blood on the floor - my doing. The taste of blood seemed to have sobered him greatly, as I do not think he even attempted to smoke. My own eyes refused to budge from the spot, until at last I crouched, holding my sleeves to keep warm, and leaned my head against the wall, the red burning into me until I felt its suffocating presence everywhere.

Our home returned to its customary silence, but no one slept that night.

----------------------------------

  
**A/N:** No this is not just senseless torture of the characters - events were building toward this. Not only that, but Saito was a heavy drinker during the Bakumatsu. Clarification on the consequences of his actions will come in the next chapter.

**Responses to Reviews:** (In order of reviewage)

  
Crap man... there were a lot... ^^;; This is gonna be as long as this chapter of the fic!

**Wolf of Mibu**: Yes, Chapter 6 was meant to be tense, and I'm glad you picked up on the mood! Tokio was a little weirded out by Okita, thus there was a level of discomfort. I meant it to be like that, lol!  
**kamorgana**: Hahaha, no one said you had to like Okita... I forgot I put up that Author's Note in the beginning... >. **Deathblade**: Yeaup yeaup, ya don't need ta tell me to keep going, this fic has consumed all my free time, I'm working as fast as I can, lol!  
**Rachel Wes**: Yea... I'm kinda beating up on him, aren't I? ^^;; It's because I love him so much, really... lol.  
**Ocean Fish**: *points at the fic category* I know what Romance means, and eventually it will happen, lol. Just sit back and enjoy the ride! And by the way, Tokio doesn't show up in the series. They had planned episodes but never made them (I've heard)  
**Keito-chan**: Saito wasn't cold in this chapter, was he? LOL don't worry, he'll be the good guy by the end!  
**Mary-Ann**: Neh, I think they made a manga called Burai which has Tokio has an undercover agent... >.o So I've been told. I've refrained from looking into it so that I don't discourage myself with this fic. I'm glad you don't think I'm boring you with this.  
**Lola**: I don't plan on escalating the fic at the moment - I wasn't sure where I was going to take the storyline, so I wanted to leave myself that option. But it doesn't look like I'm going to have an issue there, so don't worry.  
**Calencoireiel**: I meant to have the cigarette thing be borderline humorous... I had to laugh when I wrote it. LOL Okita is coming back... and his presence will be explained more thoroughly then.  
**JadeGoddess**: What will she do? She'll do what she always does... try to get him to have a conversation with her! LOL. Her moment of glory will come later, don't worry...  
**papazy**: I'm glad you think me worthy of doing Saito/Tokio. And I'm glad you're enjoying it! And your reviews don't have to be inspirational, just let me know if I'm being a little too.. OOC.  
**anime girl**: LOL I live to serve! There's actually a lot of Tokio fics that are quite good and have a different interpretation than mine... some of my reviewers have written them, actually, lol. And you will find out eventually! I never leave loose ends in my fics!  
**aiteane**: This fic will probably be done after 3 weeks, so if you stop by then you can read the whooole thing!  
**Leila Winters**: Dear lord - it wasn't my fault you were up so late! You didn't do it for me, you did it for SAITO! Oh admit it.. LoL! And congrats, I think you're the first person to put "Okita" and "devious" in the same sentance... oh goodness, your reviews cracked me up! Don't crucify me for this last chapter though... this WASN'T NEEDLESS TORMENT, I SWEAR! XD And the manga was called Burai I think, where she was the secret agent.  
**JadOo**: THANKIES! I'm surprised, I didn't really think I left cliffhangers anywhere, except in 6. Just goes to show how much I know... lol!  
**Eikou**: Nope, they didn't choose each other. Their marriage was actually arranged. And as for the Meiji bit, I changed history a little. Although, they really did get married 3 years before he became a policeman. (hooray for research! ^^) But they will be happy by the end... be patient! Like Saito!   


  



	8. Reconciliation

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Dawn prodded me into action and I wearily rose to my feet. I could see in the dim, gray light his body sprawled out on the wooden plank floor. The morning would no doubt bring him a fitful, dreamless slumber, and I would not disturb him. The demon had disappeared and was not about to return.

I felt the air upon my shoulder, and was reminded of my torn yukata. Whether or not I would bother repairing it would depend upon if I could bear to wear something so dirty and tarnished in my memory. I would ponder it later.

My pace that morning was agonizingly slow. But there was nothing to do, except wait. At last, I felt motivated to at least clean the dried spittle from the night before. While I was there, I peered outside to see that he was indeed awake, staring into the gray nothingness of the morning, his back to me. With little hesitation, I knelt next to him.

"Good morning." Although my voice was quiet, I was not being meek. The time had already come and gone for such things.

"Good morning." His eyes did not stray, but I found his tone to be lacking its usual cold composure.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" The prompt caused his eyes to twitch - no doubt he felt the burden of my gaze.

"No." He lapsed into silence, clearly not relishing the thought of elaborating. Nothing on his face changed.

"Perhaps your tongue hurts too much too speak? Well, don't worry, I will tell you exactly what I expected to hear!" I felt my hands shaking, a strange rush in my ears accompanying my reprimand. My defiance. "I expected an explanation as to why you came home drunk last night. Why you drink at all when it turns you into such a horrible thing! How a man who believes in a righteous cause can allow himself to transform into the essence of what he is so set against? And," I continued, disappointed by not having garnered a reaction by now. "Why you refuse to speak to me! You come and go without a word, you do nothing but smoke outside silently - what is so difficult about holding a conversation with your wife?!"

"What would you like me to say?" The question was asked with perfect seriousness, yet I was by now infuriated, seeing it as a scornful retort.

"I'm sorry, perhaps!" I snapped. The silence choked me from spitting out something more damaging, assuming I could have thought of it in my current frame of mind.

"Well. I am sorry, Tokio." He said quietly, coldly, as he stood. "If you wanted a perfect man, you married the wrong one." I could see he was about to leave, so I hurried to stand also.

"I didn't have a choice!" I cried. But in my haste to get up, my clothing caught beneath my foot, my balance disrupted. I could have cursed aloud; my entire crusade to implement a change in our relationship would become laughable with one ungraceful splat.

He had already turned his back, but the next thing I knew I was encircled by his arms, my face cushioned by his chest. Even after all I had said, he had not let me fall…

"No. You didn't." He replied with a flatness that seemed oddly melancholy. I felt a light pressure on the top of my head as he kissed my hair and sighed. His hands were gentle yet commanding as he righted me, and I began to feel a trickle of guilt cooling my anger. I thought if I looked at him I might either become soft, like clay for him to mold, or my anger would boil over. So my eyes remained on the plank floor, and I listened as he walked inside.

Throughout the morning and afternoon we were careful not to speak or see one another. I carried his food into the room for him and left, not accompanying him during the meal as I usually did. I did not want to rekindle my dispute with him; at the moment, I did not think I had asked for too much, but if I opened my mouth again, the destruction might be irreparable. As it was, my complaint about our marriage bothered me. This was what fate had to offer me, and for all my dissatisfaction with it, I was lucky. My husband was, I had only been able to admit recently, an attractive man, with his confidence, strength, and thin, angled figure. He had a job that paid reasonably well for the moment, dangerous though it was. And most importantly, there was something malleable inside of him that, when touched upon, might bend ever so slightly. I had seen it with the cigarettes - my extreme distaste of them had triggered a change instinctively, and he now only smoked outside. It was this thought that spurred me to speak so openly this morning, hoping I could find his iron will and reshape it, ever so slightly. Now it needed time to solidify, but I could wait. Wolves are not the only creatures with patience.

A vicious knock at the front of the house caught my attention. I was quite sure my husband had been outside, but he was difficult to keep track of in his silence. As I made my way to see who it was, two voices began to speak, one a stranger, the other the deliberate aloofness of my husband.

"We're off tonight!"

"Tonight? I thought we were talking care of that in three days."

"The plans have changed. You know how things are. He'll only be in Kyoto until tomorrow morning."

"Hm. Any word if the Ishin know?"

"No. That's why the meeting was moved last minute. Our spies haven't contacted us which means they're preparing for something. Maybe even tonight. Either way, this meeting has to happen. Oh, Hijikata needs to speak with the commanders beforehand too."

"Fine."

"We need to hurry."

"Mm."

Feet pattered away across the stones and I felt my heart sink. Had my attempts failed miserably? I could not bear to live a life of silence, ignored by my husband.

I walked back through the quiet household to the kitchen, where I had been cleaning after making a set of cakes. My feet were heavy, my spirit crushed. What I had thought would open his eyes to change had done nothing… nothing but make things worse. Surely now he loathed me, for my rejection and my criticism.

The sudden sliding of the door startled me and I gasped, spinning around to see who had crept up on me. My stomach twisted in fear, and then in confusion when I realized it was him. But, I thought, I just heard him run off with the messenger, seconds before! Unless there had been more than one messenger at the door…

"I have to leave." His voice pulled me out of the possibilities circling in my mind. A cloth in hand, he was stacking my fresh cakes, preparing to wrap them. I stood there gaping stupidly, unable to mobilize myself in the wake of his actions. He had spoken to me?

"No, no," I had been watching him package the food and could tell they would be crushed and cracked in an instant. Without thinking, I moved over and took the desserts from him, feeling my heart skip involuntarily when my fingers brushed against his hand. "You won't hold yourself on these alone; I'll wrap you some heavier food."

"Tonight I'm meeting with Hijikata, to go over plans." He continued as if he did not notice I had taken the food from him. Perhaps he was glad that I was using my expertise to ensure his meal arrived at his destination in one piece - or perhaps he dared not admit that he only wanted to take the sweets with him and was trying to avoid another reprimand. There was a pause, but I was too busy with my bustling to notice it. He seemed to sense my question without my asking it, as he explained. "Hijikata is my superior."

"Ah." I said, at last finding my tongue. I was focusing entirely on the food; afraid if I did anything else I would make a fool of myself. "There, that will be much better." I proceeded to cross the kitchen, to where I had left the cakes to cool, intending to pack one or two as a treat. His low voice struggled to speak again, as if he did not know exactly what to tell me, but knew he must say something.

"It will take all night."

"Are you bringing something to drink?"

"Yes."

"Good." I handed him the food, neatly packed in a little cloth bundle. "There."

"Do not wait up for me." He turned and made for the front door at his leisurely pace; as he left, my insides seemed to be leaving with him. I do not think he could know the simple joy he had brought me by sharing those few words with me, and I did not want it to end - so I followed him.

"How dangerous is this going to be?" I asked, trailing behind.

"Honestly?" He snorted. "Hardly worth my time."

"Even so, I will still worry-" I did not finish, realizing the admission I was about to make surprised me into biting my tongue to stop myself. But why shouldn't I say such a thing? I was married to him, wasn't I?

"Worry?" There was surprise in his voice, as if the concept that I might worry had never occurred to him before. "Ehh… well… if you must." His words brought a smile to my lips - a genuine smile I had not felt since the day we married. For once, he seemed not to know what to say.

He was about to step across the threshold when I gathered enough courage to grab his sleeve.

"Wait…" He stopped, but did not turn around. My head spun with apprehension, but I knew he would not scoff at me, and I understood what his reaction would be. His silence would no longer mean indifference, and every word he said would be treasured. He had done what I requested, and never could I ask for any more! It was my turn - I would learn to fully understand the meanings of silence, just as I would learn to endure the taste of his cigarettes. My conscience finally felt clear as we stood there in the doorway, and I wanted desperately to thank him. But all the words I could think of were so trivial in my mind!

Standing on my toes, a difficult task in my shoes, I managed to reach his cheekbone with my lips and leave a soft kiss on his face. "Please be safe."

I sank back onto my feet; we did not move, and I suspected he did not know what to do with himself as I stood there, still clinging to his sleeve.

"Mm." He agreed at last to my request with a short hum, before he stepped out the door. I let go of his clothing, but I remained in the doorway to watch him depart, a surge of unbridled joy rising to the surface. I must have looked ridiculous, grinning from ear to ear like a monkey, but it was hopeless to explain. The truth was exposed. Okita could not have lied, and my instincts had not been wrong. Something inside that man was malleable, and in my blundering attempts to unearth it, I had discovered what it was.

His heart.   


  



	9. Explanation

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

The hours ticked by so slowly. Crickets accompanied me through a good portion of my vigil, but soon even they went to rest. I sat, watching the lantern flicker across the table.

I knew he had told me not to wait for him, but even if I tried I could not have slept. Too much had already happened, yet there was still so many blank pages left to fill in this chapter of my life that my imagination could not possibly conjure enough scenarios!

My torn yukata lay in my lap, my fingers carefully mending the tear as my mind wandered. I had decided to keep the clothing as a reminder, a momento. Everything had changed in an instant, it seemed, like a tree about to be snapped by the wind, finally acquiescing and bending. Once in motion, the storm loses all power over the plant, and none of the howls or cries raining from the sky can penetrate its tranquility.

My serenity was at last broken by the sound of his voice, muffled by the rice paper door. What accompanied it caused my breath to catch in my throat.

"Ahou! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

A series of violent coughs were the only answer, and I opened the door to reveal a terribly gruesome sight.

My husband stood at the door, his face tainted by disgust, his clothes bloodstained and dirty. Hanging limply onto his left arm was Okita, also covered in blood - but I suspected it was his own.

"Okita!" I cried out, my surprise preventing me from saying much else. My husband did not move, but instead pushed Okita into my hands, as I carefully eased the boy inside. "Sit down," I insisted, trying to help him lower his body. I propped him against the wall, and he did not budge, his skin pale and glistening with beaded sweat, involuntarily shaking. The coughs continued to summon revolting bloody phlegm and I felt sickened by the very sight. I helped him out of his uniform, hoping it would allow him to breathe easier. It was still sticky and I felt my stomach turn. He was sick. "I'll go get fresh linen for you." I would burn it afterwards - money would buy me more cloth, but it could not buy a cure for consumption.

When I hurried back, I realized my husband had not moved far, but was leaning against the wall with an uncharacteristic grimace flashing across his face as he limped forward. I had not realized the red seeping through the cloth on his left leg, the trickle bleeding into his sock…

"Stay there." I softly instructed, unable to do anything but attend to Okita, whose spasms had resumed. I wrapped the boy in a blanket and gave him a towel to catch his coughs, before sitting back, feeling ultimately useless. What he needed was a doctor, but at the moment he was in no condition to walk.

I turned my attention to my injured husband. He had not asked for any assistance, but he seemed grateful to use my shoulder as a crutch. My own arm went about his waist, as we slowly progressed towards the kitchen. I never realized how much one could tell by simply holding another person; his unsteady breathing and tensing of muscles unveiled every dagger of pain and every struggle to force the burning agony back with another step. When at last he was able to ease himself onto a tatami mat, I already knew what lay behind his blank face, and I decided to take his mind off the stinging pain while I dressed the wound.

"What exactly were you doing?" I asked, as I kindled a fire. The cloth would need to be boiled, and I regretted that I did not have any medicine to accompany the bandages.

"There's a packet over there. Drugs." He gestured to a drawer on my left, as if sensing my very thoughts. I followed his directions and found a small envelope, filled with powder.

"This?"

"Mm."

"…What should I do with it?"

"Add water. Not too much." As I moved to mix the ointment, he began to talk, his low voice full of a steady anger - which I realized what not directed at me, but still aroused a sense of timidity deep within. His eyes closed, he recounted every detail, addressing my initial question.

"All we were to do was escort some politicians for a meeting - their names are of no consequence. The Ishin Shishi had been looking to dispose of these politicians, so we all coordinated our group movements to block the possible entrances. My unit was in the woods by the back wall of the inn."

"Well, the Ishin Shishi chose to strike as Hijikata predicted. Their numbers have grown, recently; from what I saw they had enough men to surround the entire building. Now, of course, they're all dead. But the Ishin Shishi will regroup and strike again. Persistent maggots." He opened his eyes and became silent as I drew near, the wet cloths in my hand intended for cleaning his wound. He looked away, not savoring the thought.

"Here, take these off." I suggested, helping to peel the stained uniform from him. Absentmindedly, I wiped off a smudge of dirt on his forehead with my thumb.

"Why don't you tell me what Okita was doing there? Surely he wasn't meant to be fighting! Not as sick as he is…"

He snorted, possibly amused by my ignorance. But I did not mind; thinking would keep his mind occupied as I dabbed the bleeding slash.

"Okita is a fool. In his condition he is of no use to the Shinsengumi and he knows it. But he has to stay. One of our rules is that the members cannot leave once they have entered. If they try - seppuku."

I shuddered inadvertently - the logic behind committing an act of self-mutilation would be forever lost on me.

"Well, Kondou and Hijikata knew he was sick, and at last they found a way around it. They made him their messenger, after he was unable to fight any longer-" Abruptly he stopped, wincing as I applied the medicine with a fresh cloth.

"Continue." I prodded. "How did Okita end up with you if he is not supposed to fight?"

"Apparently, the little bastard was hiding among the trees with the rest of us. When the fighting broke out, he joined the melee and in the confusion no one noticed. I had just sent my men back to the inn to ensure the safety of the officials when I heard his infernal cough and smelled his blood. He had succeeded in getting three rebels, but there were still three more and he had collapsed. The little fool is lucky I was there. To think, I sacrificed a leg for his hide and he may not even live to realize it."

"Well," I said, wrapping the bandage about his leg. "You couldn't have just left him there…"

"No. The Ishin Shishi would have loved to get their hands on Okita Souji… it would have been a great blow to our organization."

"That may be true." I conceded. "Still, you are being too harsh on the boy."

"Is that so?"

"What other way of life does he know? He is so young -" I finished securing the bandage in place and went to soak the dirty clothes. "You call him a fool, but I think he is just lost. Without his sword, he is nothing." I paused for a moment, watching the red swirl and dissolve off the fabric. "And really, aren't you the same way?" The silence indicated I had made an observation with more than a grain of truth in it.

"In the beginning, perhaps I was." He admitted. Another pause. "You may be right about him."

With a victorious smile, I turned to see him struggling to stand.

"What are you doing?" I objected. The pack of cigarettes in his hand answered what he was unwilling to. I firmly guided him back to his mat on the floor. "You can smoke inside this time." I moved to open a window. "Just leave it." I heard no words of thanks, but a rapid grating of the match. Ah well, I thought. He cannot be perfect.

"It seems Okita is feeling better." I commented in the silence, noting the coughs had ceased. "If he is well enough, I will walk him to the doctor down the street. There is nothing we can do for him."

"Mm," was my reply, my husband too engrossed with his smoking to bother responding. Rolling my eyes and heaving a sigh, I shifted towards the door.

"Be careful, Tokio." He said, not looking up. "Kyoto is restless tonight."

"…Of course." I nodded in obedience, before leaving to see to Okita.

  


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**Responses to Reviews:**  
You're all gonna turn me into a review addict! ^^; I hope I got everyone!

**Glitch**: Well, it's good to have skeptics be critical of people's work - it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it! I'm glad you have no complaints though. I tried to keep his character evolution reasonable. No cuteness here!  
**Mary-Ann**: If you want more info on mangas containing Saito and the Shinsengumi - go read G's review. And here is that Okita explanation... with more in the next chapter. Don't worry, I understand your reviews completely ^_^ Cuz they say exactly what I think about the fic too! The "sweet" moments aren't the same kind you might get with other couples from RK because... well, it's Saito! He has a different quality that has certain things go "unsaid".  
**Leila Winters**: Do I need to write a disclaimer that it's not my fault if you stay up late because of Saito? XD This is actually my first perspective fic ever, and... I won't lie, it's really hard to keep this from Mary-Suing itself. Cuz we all wish we were Tokio, don't we? I hope this holds up to your standards of "longer chapter"... I pretty much write until the characters say "okay, stop HERE". I know that sounds stupid, but that's really how it is. And no, I'm not a schizophrenic.  
**Eikou**: I did hear about the translations! I have to save up so I can grab my copy!  
**Blood Roses**: The "if you must" was my version of Saito having an awkward moment. Cuz honestly, the guy isn't gonna be real smooth even if he is a closet romantic... who has he had to practice on?  
**kamorgana**: Okay, so it took me two chapters to get to Okita? And I'm curious - was that what you thought would happen? LOL. It was a random idea that came to me, but I hope it's plausible.  
**Poppyrulz**: Three times the reviews, eh? You won't get any complaints from me! >) Tell everyone you know to review review review!  
**Harthlays**: *blushes* I don't know what to say! Thank you doesn't do justice...  
**Calencoireiel**: He didn't light the cigarette because he was thinking too much about other things. And cuz *cough* he was pretty drunk...  
**aiteane**: He wanted his katana because he likes to kill people...? I thought it would be funny if he was like "WHERE THE HELL IS IT?!" and he was wearing it the whole time... ^^; And btw, drama means constant upheavals of happiness, LOL. More trauma will come, but I think it's gonna end up ultimately being happy. Too few fics do that nowadays.  
**Wolf of Mibu**: See, I ain't stupid. LOL. And don't pity them, look at how happy Chapter 8 was! XD  
**G**: AH! I OWE YOU MY LIFE! Or my firstborn... something along those lines. Thank you so much for all the info and the self-esteem boost, lol!  
**Keito-chan**: Tokio has a backbone... somewhere. I've been trying to find it in the last few chapters and I think it's been discovered!  
**JadeGoddess**: Indeed - Saito doesn't apologize! But it's okay, because in his own way, at least, he makes up for his mistakes. And while he won't admit them, he's not stupid enough to deny that he does make them.  
**Silver**: *dies laughing* MINTS! Genius, absolute GENIUS! Honestly though, the whole cigarette smoking thing is supposed to be more symbolic than anything. His silence and smoking are her main issues, and his are her rejection and his own awkwardness about the whole thing.  
**slazh**: Glad you don't think I've made him a sadistic bastard. XD Really, he wouldn't have so many fans if we didn't think he had another side to him... or would he?  
**Rachel Wes**: I could have ended it, if I didn't bring Okita into the story. (Damn that kid...) But more action is on the way. And possibly some more of what I dub "Saito sap". Well, cuz really it's not that sappy. AND THE IDEA YOU HAD WAS GENIUS! I shall write a companion fic, I think. ^_^ It would help explain everything, and I would get to mess with his character more in-depth. Thank you so much for the thought.  
**Lola**: Chapter 8 was my favorite to write thus far. But how they got there was important too, so I've been trying to give every chapter equal consideration, planning, etc.  
**Sarah**: Thankies! ^_^ Always good to have encouragement in terms of my character development. I've been feeling shaky all along and a little boost now and then helps tremendously, so THANK YOU!  
**eriesalia**: Tokio won't be messed with. Well, I shouldn't say that. Everything will iron itself out in the end. And then they'll frolic in meadows with bunnies and butterflies... juuuust kidding!  
**muemosyne**: See G's review for information on Tokio in a manga. ^^ And as for Tokio's mindset, being the outspoken American that I am, I'm glad I've been able to infiltrate the traditional woman's perspective. And yes, I felt that Tokio needed to have a spark in her or else Saito would not be able to respect her and then things would NOT end well!  
  


  



	10. Forgiven

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

The boy looked better, but his eyes were glassy as he watched me approach.

"Are you alright?" Pointless question.

"Fine." He smiled, deciding not to tempt fate with a laugh at my absurd inquiry.

"We should walk you to the doctor. Do you think you can get up?"

"Yes." He shakily moved to stand.

"Let me help…" I placed his arm about my neck and pulled him up. Another smile.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

We slowly made our way down the stone path, out the gate, into the street. Each step seemed to take longer than the last, but I was in no hurry. Our pace suited me.

It gave my mind a moment to wander back to what my husband had told me. Delegated a messenger. Terminally ill. Useless to the group. "Circumstances have changed…" The lost look in his eyes, the choked back coughs, and the endless chatter. Everything fit together.

The poor boy - I pitied him so! - had been wandering once he was cut loose from the demands of his position. He had stopped by to see my husband, hoping to fill the emptiness of the days through contact with another commander. But only I was there. Seizing his opportunity, the boy instead talked to me, hoping it would still fill the gap. He reverted to the only time my name had been mentioned to him, having nothing else to say, but desperate to fill the silence that was his life. And thus, unintentionally assisting me.

Yes, I pitied him. Without his sword, what was he?

"I always wondered what it was like to walk to death. How strange that it looks like the streets of Kyoto!" He stared ahead obstinately, as if he was seeing something in the empty street that I could not.

"Okita?"

"Ah… so it is you who is accompanying me, sister?" When he turned to look at me, his eyes were blind to my true identity. The blank gaze and uncompromising smile made me shudder - something was terribly wrong.

"It's been so long since I've seen you! And how fitting, that you would lead me down the same path you walked yourself…" His gaze shifted to the road ahead and his smile faded. "I never forgot you, sister…"

"Come." I said quietly. "We are almost there…"

"Yes, we are! I can feel it in my bones…" He tried to take a deep breath, but only succeeded in starting another fit. Curses, I thought, he is growing heavy! Regaining control and his balance, we straightened to walk the last few houses.

"What's it like, sister? Is it… peaceful? Does the pain leave?" My mind was blank, repeating the same words that by now I knew to be true. He was hallucinating.

"Sister? You know I got them back, don't you?" His fingers suddenly dug into my shoulder, the pressure almost painful. "You know I didn't let the bastards get away with it! I hunted them down. I killed them all! Every single one of those assholes - I slit their throats!" His voice was growing louder, echoing against the silent buildings as I cringed. "How could I let them kill you? I sat there and watched you die!"

His anger emanated from his body in the same way that his voice flew forth from his mouth so violently. What had happened to this boy? I wondered, fearful almost of his rage. But with his emotion returned his sickness, and the episode was worse than the last, not even allowing him the dignity to face whatever it was he hid behind that cheerful smile. His ravings had unveiled a darkness that welled inside of him like boiling water, ready to burst open the thin shell that held his sanity. To live a life of helplessness and guilt… I had the luxury of never dealing with such pains, and what was I to say to someone who had?

Okita's face was streaked with tears, his attempt to cover his sobs aggravating his condition. But at least we had arrived at our destination.

My knuckles rapped urgently on the door. Please let someone hear me, my mind begged, as I knocked again. Blood began to spatter the dirt beneath us, and I felt my pulse quicken. Okita hung heavy on my arm, every cough bringing him further and further towards the ground as his body sagged.

A young woman about my age slid open a small wooden panel in the door.

"Yes?"

"Please!" I found myself pleading her in my fright. "There must be something you can do for him…" Her eyes grew wide when she saw Okita, and she called shrilly for her father, her feet pattering on the wooden floors. The minutes passed and I heard her shout again. At last, loud footsteps echoed down the corridor, and a much older man with graying hair squinted through the door at me.

"Well?" His voice carried his irritation at being disturbed. But now, I was furious.

"What kind of doctor leaves a man to die on his doorstep?" I accused over the sound of the boy's strangled chokes. "Open up!" My indignation caused my face to flame with ire. The man slid open the rice paper door at a leisurely pace, his brow knit in silent thought. Despite his age, his hands were strong and commanding as he took Okita inside - I merely stood on the doorstep, my anger ebbing away to worry.

As Okita felt himself being pulled away, he began violently protesting.

"No! Sister! Don't leave me! Who the hell are you? Sister!" His shrieks subsided into another fit of coughs, but he somehow found the energy to cry out repeatedly as the doctor forced him into an adjoining room.

I stiffened as the girl lay her hand on my arm.

"Would you like to come in?" She asked, her soft voice dragging me inside against my will. "I can make you some tea while you wait…"

"No, thank you." I shook my head, raising my hand to rub my face in an attempt to fight off exhaustion. "It will not be long."

I did not have the strength to explain what was happening - and did it really matter if they knew anyway? I realized I was not the one who should be here, watching him waste away. But if not me, then who?

As I predicted, it was moments before the doctor returned, his tired face grim.

"There is nothing I can do. I am sorry." With a slight nod, I acknowledged this. Really, I had known as much, but there was no harm in trying. The old man looked at me strangely, but was not surprised at my lack of emotion - no doubt he had seen it before.

"The boy is asking for you." I started - I was not about to walk in so he could pretend I was someone else! Pretending would merely rob him of dying with his dignity intact. But if I was not there, he would be alone. My conscience moved my feet to carry me in.

His face fell when he saw me - I supposed he had been expecting his sister. I knelt beside him, too bewildered and fatigued to say anything. Not that I even knew where to start.

"Saitou… Tokio." His voice rasped. "You brought me here?"

I nodded, relieved he recognized me. I would not have to expend any energy to carry on a charade. The feverish gleam had disappeared, only to be replaced with a mournful emptiness.

"Why?" Okita's face coiled with anger. "Why did that bastard have to come? Why couldn't he let me die!" His voice was so forceful in its quiet gasps, his fists clenched, shaking.

"Do you understand? I wanted to die on the battlefield! Die for what I believed in!" He averted his gaze. "I owed that much. Now… it is this."

Perhaps it was maternal instinct, a womanly compassion. I reached for his hand, cold and clammy, and enclosed it in mine.

"Okita," I began, struggling to find the words. "I do not know everything that has happened in your life, but I do know you have done more than enough - for your sister, for the Shinsengumi, for your cause… you did not have to die to prove your loyalty. You lived it." I felt my eyes watering with sadness. I was the only one to comfort him, the only one to forgive him in an effort to allow him to forgive himself. I would have liked to know what it was that hid behind the innocent smile. Time was running so short, and to think he was so young...

"It is your turn to rest." I said, my thumb caressing his palm. "You have disappointed no one."

As I spoke, the tears blinked from his eyes, cascading down his round face. The face of a child. His body grew limp and he feebly squeezed my hand, rasping,

"Is… that so?"

"Mm." I responded. "Every word is truth."

"A…ari…ga…" The cough choked him and he clamped his eyes shut. A spasm took hold of him, and when it departed, only silence was left in its wake. Only my breathing.

"It's nothing…" I whispered. "The least I could do…"

Shakily I stood, dislodging the corpse's hand from mine. The icy grasp of death had penetrated my fingers where the dead flesh had been clinging, and I furiously clawed at my hand, trying to erase the sensation from my palm.

I walked out of the room, rather dazed, and the two were there, looking at me sympathetically. Why did they pity me? He was the one who was alone…

"Please… keep… I can't…" My lips fumbled, in my confusion I could not speak, but only managed to stumble out the door.

My mind had invented a ghastly idea that plagued me as I walked. That could have been my husband with the death-hands, with the closed eyes and white lips. That could have been him tonight. Death stood next to the members of the Shinsengumi and they knew it. They did not care - they embraced it.

Death for the cause. That was their purpose, their dream; Okita had confirmed it. And next to the stunning whirlwind forces of ideals and death, what was I to him? He cared enough to acquiesce before me, to let me on equal footing with him - but did he care enough to put me before death?

In my flurry of doubts, I was blind. I did not see the two shadows waiting behind the trees before my gate; I did not look up as I unlocked the entrance. I did not know what hit me on the side of the head. But I knew enough to catch myself as I fell. Crawling like a wounded animal, I managed to reach the bottom step, my head pounding, my mouth tasting of blood. They had not hit to kill, merely to stun. And they had missed.

"Damn it, Isamu." A voice accused flatly. "Now we have to kill her."

"Eh…" The second voice seemed reluctant to argue. "We aren't after her though…"

"Perhaps." I heard the sliding of a sword in its sheath.

"But our orders were-"

"They did not know he would have a whore with him. We have no alternative. Kill her. Even if we do not want to - we can have no witnesses."

My clothes prevented me from moving very fast, and I dared not stand. There was no escape, the two men were closing in quickly. I turned, determined to see my murderers so that I might curse them for all eternity.

The man standing above me, katana poised, was a young man. Like Okita, I thought, feeling my head spin in confusion. The other was farther back, hidden in the shadows, but even in the dark, my eyes discerned that he had the strangest color hair - a fiery red.

  


A/N: Ohhhh surprise surprise! Look who's here! If you can't figure out who the mystery man is... Saitou is going to come and gatotsu you! XD This is just a note on the fact that it may take me more than my customary 2 days to update (4 maybe? At most), as the next scene has dialogue that needs to be dealt with carefully. Saitou is trying to become OOC and I need to stop him. x.x And another warning - the fic is almost finished, unless some crazy inspiration hits me. There will be two more chapters, I think. I like to ramble, so we'll see.   


  



	11. Resolution

**Through My Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

**A/N**: Okay, I lied. One last big chapter to finish the whole thing off with a bang!  
Because I was just SO sad that I was finished with this fic, my brain came up with some new ideas for Saitou fanfiction. I plan on doing a companion piece to this fic, which will appropriately be titled, "Through Your Eyes". Saitou's perspective (boy, that'll be a trip..) with some hidden goodies that I purposely skipped over in this fic to keep an element of surprise. Obviously the majority of the plot is out in the open, but I promise it will stay fresh, so please be on the lookout for it!  
A big thank you to everyone who reviewed - you guys have been my inspiration throughout this entire ordeal I call writing first person POV, and honestly, I couldn't have done it without you. I only hope I delivered the kind of quality fic that really made this as much fun for you as it was for me. And, no, I normally don't spew out this crap, I REALLY DO MEAN IT.  
Last Note and Most Important: Strong language in this chapter, kiddies. I used the one swear that's *technically* not supposed to be in PG-13 rated... things. And there's also some graphic depictions of violence (in my opinion, but maybe I just have an overactive imagination). Just don't complain about nightmares, k? Now, onto the grand finale...

  


  
The katana raised above me, glinting menacingly. I whimpered, thinking of my husband, on the other side of those wooden walls - but my terror would not allow me to scream.

The sudden sound of a door slamming open caused the boy to look up in surprise.

"What the hell do you think you're doing." There was no question, no chance to choose whether or not to reply - simply a demand for an answer. I craned my neck to see my husband standing in the doorway, his own katana in hand.

"She's mine. Get your own, Ishin bastard." My lungs, heaving to let in as much air as possible, froze. The Ishin Shishi… here? But they had been defeated - earlier this very night! How could they have time to plan this? The boy standing over me did not move.

"Don't even try." My husband glared at the young man as he licked the edge of his sword with a demonic smirk on his lips. "I'd pin your ass to the tree before you even had a chance. I'm surprised the Battousai even allows such weaklings in his presence." I could see the katana looming overhead beginning to shake, the fear taking root. I felt fear as well; that man with the red hair was the legendary Hitokiri Battousai! What could my injured husband do against him? Death weighed heavy around me; tonight Kyoto was restless indeed.

"I will repeat myself only once more. Back away."

"Isamu." The Battousai warned. With no hesitation, the young man retreated. Tension fairly cracked in the air. As my husband's eyes did not leave the short Battousai, directing only his voice at me.

"Get up." My head still spun as I struggled to comply with his request. Apparently, I was not moving quickly enough, for his hand roughly grabbed my wrist, jerking me upward with unnecessary force. I felt his tension, his calculations, his realizations. Even a fool knew who would be the victor.

"Get inside." His voice was low.

"But…"

"Go!" He commanded, flinging me back through the open door. I fell to my knees, my eyes locked on the trio before me.

"Isamu." The Battousai summoned again, narrowing his eyes. "Find the back entrance and kill her. I will take care of this one."

A low, sarcastic laugh tumbled from my husband's lips as the young man began to make his way to the corner of the house.

"That is your solution, Battousai? You know you cannot defeat me, and so you try to corner me? Hmph! Tactics worthy of such a dishonorable Ishin dog. I refuse to play that game." He straightened and took two steps back until he was through the doorway. "I'll be waiting." Displaying very little effort, he swung his katana in front of him in an arc, crunching the paneled walls and, more importantly, two beams holding the roof and overhang. With a ceremonious crash, the front entrance collapsed, blocking off the opening. If the Battousai wanted my husband's blood, he would have to enter through the back way, which meant we were now cornered.

I watched my husband rapidly move to the corridor, ignoring his surely painful wound. "Tokio." I followed obediently. How he planned to defend himself when his dominant leg was injured I could not understand.

"Open your legs." He ordered flatly. I felt myself grow crimson.

"Why…!"

"Do it." He growled. At last, I complied. He pierced my clothing with his sword between my knees and slit the fabric to the hem.

"Now you can run." He said, ignoring my embarrassment. "When they come in, I'll break open the wall." He gestured behind him to the paneling at the end of the corridor. "Then you must go. Do not wait for me."

"You can't be serious!" I protested. "There is no way -"

"I have fought the Battousai before."

"But you weren't injured, were you?" I retorted. "This is suicide!"

"A wolf never surrenders."

The stubborn, obstinate man! In all his pride, he was going to allow himself to die, to struggle in futility to make a sacrifice for his beliefs! I hated him so fervently at that moment, hated him for thinking I would leave him behind.

"No." I clenched my fists and stood my ground.

"What?" I saw his eyebrows raise in agitation.

"I'm not leaving. You will come with me!"

"Would you prefer they slit your throat?" He said coldly, his eyes trained on where the Battousai would enter. "I will not repeat myself."

I felt my will wavering. If I did stay, death seemed ready to fold me in its arms and I would be relinquished as its prisoner. But if I left…

I strongly disliked my choices, but could see no alternative. Until my eyes fell on the smoldering cigarette which my husband had discarded on his way to my rescue.

"Give me your matches."

"What?"

"Please…"

The idea had formed in all its hideous glory, and now I was determined to see it through. He complied, nonchalantly tossing the wooden matches to me. I smiled; my heart beginning to race. If I could manage to do everything as I saw it happening in my mind…

"Cigarette?" I inquired, pulling out a match.

"I don't smoke when I fight, Tokio." He spoke to me as if I were a stupid child - and I will admit the offer did seem a little strange.

"You must!" I insisted. "When you see me return, discard it…"

"Tokio, what the hell are you -" I had lit the match and stood waiting, defiant. With a sigh, he pulled out a cigarette and let me light it. I smiled to reassure him, and I knew he was indulging me, using every bit of his patience to refrain from scolding me - maybe he thought it would be his last chance to do so.

"Hold onto it." I instructed. "Until the very end."

"Stupid woman." He muttered gruffly, taking a puff. It was then that we heard the Battousai's voice.

"The corridor."

My husband turned, rapidly slashing through the wall twice to create a splintered hold in the paneling. His speed and accuracy daunted me, and left me wondering how efficient he would be without an injury at all…

"Go."

"Yes." The matches still tightly in my hand, I left, hiding about the corner of the house, listening to the Battousai's quiet, emotionless voice.

I needed to be quick if I wanted to succeed. If I was too slow, it would only result in what I wished to prevent - his death. I needed to fly.

Kicking off my sandals, I pulled out a match. Six remained. Enough for what had to be done.

I made my way to the front of the house, the crushed-in doorway. My fingers shook as I grated the match. When it did not light, I panicked and tried again. This time, I burnt my finger in my haste. I knelt, my torn clothing no longer a hindrance, and let the match's tiny flame flicker beneath the rice paper. It had begun.

As soon as the fire caught, I dropped the match, letting it burn itself into ash. My feet rapidly carried me to the next side of the house, repeating the same steps, except there was only wood here.

Next was the kitchen entrance. I merely laid the kindling on the floor and set it aflame, blocking the doorway. I had left enough for the other back entrance as well, creating two bonfires in little time. The curls of smoke were now visible in the sky - before long it would be a blazing inferno. A coffin of flames.

My matches were gone.

I ran back to the only exit I had left open - the same one I had escaped through. I heard the clang of metal on metal, the grunts, the yells… and saw they were both still standing.

"Little wench!" A voice hissed behind me. An arm was about my throat, cold steel pushing against my chin. Isamu. "Now you will watch him die. Scream, or I'll slit your throat!"

He was going to anyway - he wanted me to be a distraction, to give the Battousai an edge. Was the battle really that close, with my husband injured? No, the two lunged forward again and after the encounter, my husband faltered. He hopped twice, favoring his right leg, when he landed. The Battousai knew. He had seen the stumble and the red beginning to seep through.

"Whore!" The boy's hands were shaking and I felt the sword grating against my throat. "I told you to scream!"

My eyes focused on the cigarette that had rolled against the wall, the tiny flamed that had caught hold of the wood. The boy's shouts had ensnared my husband's attention - I saw his feet turn as he faced us.

"…Ha…ji…me…" I choked, my eyes watering as the blunt side of the katana crushed my breathing. I heard an inhuman snarl and I saw his feet leap from the house - using his injured leg for leverage, as if nothing was wrong. The force of his impact slid me back slightly, but all I noticed was the air rushing through my lungs, the katana falling with a thud to the ground beside me.

"You fucking moron." He hissed. "I warned you." Holding him by the neck, he prepared to strike.

"Go to Hell." My gaze refused to divert itself, despite the gore as the katana pierced through Isamu's neck, the boy writing in silent agony, his pupils rolling about. The katana came back out, streaked with red, running and dripping off the end. With an expert flick, the drops fled to the ground, leaving the silver blade untainted, as my husband angrily flung the deceased boy to the ground.

"And as for you…" He turned to face the Battousai who now stood in the only entrance left in our burning home. There was another rabid cry as my husband charged at him, launching himself at the red-haired man with such a force that both disappeared into the smoke. The rice paper caught flame with a burst as the flickers from the cigarette crept up the wall, and I could see the two struggling. The Battousai batted him away.

"Hajime!" I shouted, watching him crumple. A snap from the rafters above caused the Battousai to lose his concentration with a quick glance upward. My husband staggered to his feet.

"As for you, Battousai." The words were spat venomously from his lips. "Burn with him!"

Jumping backwards, he cut the two beams on either side of the corridor, the roof creaking loudly before slowly caving in, creating a shower of sparks.

It worked.

I stood stupid gaping at the flames that now crackled ominously in the night.

"Go!" My husband grabbed my wrist, flinging me forward. But when I did not move, he wrapped his fingers around me again and fairly dragged me behind him.

"Stupid woman! So that's why you wanted my matches…"

"…I'm sorry."

"That isn't enough to kill the Battousai. Fire cannot defeat a man like him."

"But a wounded wolf can?" I muttered, running to keep up with his long strides. His eyes narrowed, but he did not pursue the subject.

We ran in silence until we reached an inn, apparently one my husband had been to before. The owner opened the door, seeming to accept the state we were in - clothes torn and bloody, panting like dogs.

"Two rooms?"

"No. One." My husband placed the money in the man's open palm.

"This way." He led us to an empty room and departed. I entered, realizing there was only one futon. Wonderful.

My husband walked to the window and slid it open, pulling out a cigarette.

"Damn it." He cursed, recalling the fate of his matches. Walking over to the lantern, he used the flame from the candle. Pensively, he returned to the window, his back to me. I could tell by the way he carried himself that he was angry - no doubt at me, for I had meddled in his fight with the Battousai, providing an opportunity to escape that he did not want to take, and selfishly making him come with me against his wishes.

So many thoughts danced in circles inside my mind as I blankly stared at the floor. Bottled inside, they crashed into one another heedlessly, and I could not separate them to make sense of any of it.

The minutes ticked by as if they were hours, the silence gently caressing my brow and turning into fatigue. I was so tired of fighting against him…

"You are quiet, Tokio." He seemed to have found the silence unnerving, particularly after that scolding I gave him. Had that really been earlier today?

"I have been thinking."

"Ah." The quiet resumed, but I had lost the comfort in it. His voice had taken away the last of my reserve and will to hold myself above the crashing waves of thought in my mind.

"Okita's dead." I blurted out unconsciously. I do not think he realized I saw him freeze, his fists slowly clench. That I heard the strained, painful muttering: "That stupid bastard." My words hung in the air like the smoke that wafted from his cigarette, unfurling unhurriedly.

"I am sorry. I held Death in my hands once already tonight. I could not bear to do it again."

"…I see." Only now did I realize his anger had departed completely. He looked depleted, tired even - it struck me how often I forgot that he was as human as I.

He leaned back against the wall and slid down to a sitting position, cradling his forehead with one hand, the other tending to his cigarette. The pain from his wound must have returned, now that the adrenaline had worn off. I remained where I sat, facing the window, his hand hiding his profile from me. The time had come - we were both worn down to the point where nothing could remain hidden, no matter how we wished to mask our emotions. And I had to know…

"Hajime…" I began, looking at him anxiously. It was the first time I had ever addressed him by his name this way, and it elicited an unpredicted response.

He lifted his head to meet my gaze, which he had never done before. The amber eyes that looked so haunting startled me into staring for a moment. In those mirrors was an untamed defiance, a flare of superiority, and a knowing glint of confidence that he heard every thought. I saw the wolf.

"Will… I ever have… you?" The words escaped my lips in pieces, as my mind felt itself being devoured by his gaze. Slowly his eyebrows raised into a questioning furrow.

"I think my previous attempts answer that." He responded sarcastically, purposefully evading the query and drawing a blush to my cheeks. I really had not worded my question intelligently.

"No, I mean…" I shook my head, clearing my thoughts.

"Before Okita died, he said he wanted to die for it… would you?"

"Die for what?" Under his intense gaze, I forgot he did not know what I was referring to.

"Loyalty to an idea."

"Hmph." He dragged on his cigarette, the sarcasm leaving his voice to be replaced with an utmost seriousness. "You speak like it is uncommon. Look around Kyoto and you will see hundreds who follow that path."

"'A wolf never surrenders'? That is what you hold most dear?"

"You did not ask me that." He calmly corrected me. "You asked me what I would die for when you already had the answer. Ahou." His tone was not condescending, remarkably, although the words would have offended anyone. Despite the insult, he was not reprimanding me for my misunderstanding. "It just proves how little you know. People cannot survive if they only have something to die for."

"I do not understand…"

"Of course not. I would not expect you to." He averted his gaze to tap the ash off the end of his cigarette before his eyes continued to observe me speculatively. "A cause will lead men into battle, but it will never lead them back out. It is he with the stronger will to live who will prevail."

"If the will to live is stronger…?" In my mind, I saw him leap towards the Battousai, his mental state overpowering the pain of his injury, providing him with enough strength in his weakened state to drive the Battousai back…

"Mm." He responded with the hum that I had grown accustomed to.

"But you are dedicated to the path of 'Aku Soku Zan'."

"That does not mean I do not possess a stronger reason to live." He stubbed out his cigarette, a thin smile on his lips. "The only thing more important to a wolf than his prey is his pack."

The intensity of the joy I had felt when he left earlier that evening was nothing compared to the flood of confusing emotion that filled me now. Mostly guilt, at having misunderstood every intention of his, overwhelming me until I felt the tears begin to stream down my face.

"Hajime…" In the blur, I saw him edge towards me, looking uncomfortable.

"Women. Always crying." His hands cupped my face, wiping my tears until I could see every detail of his disapproving scowl.

"I am so sorry. For everything!" I choked out.

"Apologize only when you are at fault." He dropped his hands but did not move, examining my streaked face closely, to my chagrin. Still frowning, he conceded, "And that I have yet to see."

I felt another wave of emotion strike - he forgave me of everything? My rejection, my criticisms, and my disobedience and interference in his affairs, gone with such simple words. As the weight lifted off my shoulders, I was able to see clearly everything I could not see in my confusion. He did not simply want me as a possession, he wanted to have me as a reason to live. I did not think he would ever say he loved me - he did not see things in that light, using petty, sentimental words to convey his thoughts. But all that he had said proved it to be true. The wolf had chosen his mate.

We sat in silence for a moment, as I was unable to find a suitable way to respond. Only once had I given him hope that I felt any emotion toward him at all. But, somewhere amidst the ups and downs of these long days, I had grown to love this man who was my husband - it was only fitting he should know as well.

"Do you remember asking me what you were?"

"Mm." His eyes clouded as he recalled the tension from our wedding night.

"I finally have the answer." I smiled, a pride in myself and in him refusing to stay hidden.

"Dare I ask." He snorted dryly, watching me carefully. Behind the retort, I could see the hunger - he was waiting. I dropped my eyes to my hands in my lap, to see his own fingers lolling idly beside him.

"I know what you are, Saitou Hajime." I said resolutely, picking up one hand with both of mine. The sword calluses on his palm made me smile, their roughness only reminding me of his devotion to everything he held sacred. Now I was to be included. I raised my face to look him in the eye.

"You are my husband, and I would not have it any other way."

His face flickered at my words, as if they somehow caught him off guard. The hand I had taken lifted from my hold, to steer my face toward his, as he silently demanded proof. To his surprise, my lips welcomed him without hesitation. Immediately he pulled back, a mischievous smirk tugging at his face. A grin that was mirrored on my own lips as our thoughts coincided. The mate accepted her partner.

"Ahou." The insult was oddly affectionate as his arms pulled me close, his voice only a low murmur in my ear.

"Didn't I warn you? I always get what I want!"

  


Through my eyes, there is black and there is white.

But all I really see is Hajime.

FIN.   


  



End file.
